


Building Bridges on Raging Rivers

by Madampringle



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blood and Injury, Developing Friendships, Except Edelgard, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Lots of it, Major Character Injury, Male Bonding, Not shipping but you can if you want, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sarcasm, She still dies, Spoilers, Uneasy Allies, possible slight ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madampringle/pseuds/Madampringle
Summary: Yes. Everything had turned out better than he expected, even if his mind was as realistic as it was hopeful when it came to fairytale dreams and ambitions.But now, in this moment...Life was a bitch sometimes, he knew this better than anyone. Right now, life was one hell of a bitch.





	1. Stranded

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with my b u l l s h i t, though this time Fire Emblem Three Houses caught me by the neck and Golden Deer saved my life.
> 
> I dreamed this mess up one day because I like bringing pain to my favorite boys and even more so I love their dynamic and the potential these two have.
> 
> This being said, this is how I see the characters, personality wise post-game. Agree with them or don’t, not my problem. I made this to get it out of my system and feed my depraved mind. I imagine Claude and Lorenz squabble often, but deep down they care for eachother and go on to become good friends and allies. That’s just me though.
> 
> Few notes. This is GOLDEN DEER route spoilers, and how I imagined the ending. It’s altered from canon because the Claudeth ending was really vague and that sucks. So have united Fodlan and Almyra led by King Claude and Queen Byleth. Everyone lives in this story and all my 3H stories.
> 
> Except Edelgard and Rhea. Sorry :(
> 
> There may be typos or mistakes, I wrote this on my phone and now I’m here unbeta’d but whoop de doo here I go!
> 
> Warnings!: Blood, injury, slight innuendos, and depictions of illness. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He supposed it all went wrong the moment the storm clouds rolled in and the rain started pounding down, akin to the sound of hooves slamming against the battlefield they had made out of the remote riverside mountain village. Even now, months after the defeat of Edelgard’s Imperial forces, and the believed defeat of Those Who Slithered in the Dark, it seemed the prospect of having a summit was always going to be interrupted by some conflict or another.

So once again, the former Golden Deer were together, united against a throng of surprisingly dangerous bandits pressing the towns that dotted around the summit grounds. Fódlan’s Locket had once stood as a fortress to defend the Leiscester Alliance from Almyran invasion. Of course now, the rugged mountain fortress had become part of the newly beating heart of the budding United Almyran and Fódlan Kingdoms. As thus, meetings between all of the counties and Imperial and Kingdom territories in the United Kingdom of Fódlan were present alongside Almyran representatives. This also meant that reuniting with his former classmates and present practical family was inevitable.

Claude still felt his heart race at the reality of what had happened over the course of the past 6 years. His dreams to break divisions, to tear down discrimination and pull peace from the ashes of the tattered continents had all begun to come to deliverance. From a boy crestfallen by the harshness of both of his homes, to a King married to the savior of Fodland, the Professor who had changed him and everyone for the better, he would say things had gone damn well thus far. Even better considering how well his Golden Deer were helping to restore their new Kingdom to perfect unity and prosperity alongside the representatives from the former Kingdom and Imperial territories. 

Yes. Everything had turned out better than he expected, even if his mind was as realistic as it was hopeful when it came to fairytale dreams and ambitions.

But now, in this moment...

Life was a bitch sometimes, he knew this better than anyone. Right now, life was one hell of a bitch.

His mind was fuzzy, chest burning as cold water sloshed up from his stomach. He dragged himself from the now leisurely flowing river, fingers curled tightly around smoothed stone and wet silt. Claude felt his clothes pull at him, dragging through the water as the pebbled shore dug into his knees. He coughed ruggedly once more, spitting out river water upon the lapped river-shore. He quickly took note that his bow was gone and his sleeves were torn. Lowering his head, his arms supported him as he gazed upon a few of the gashes that had torn his sleeves. Inspecting the rest of his body silently, he was relieved to find that was the worst of his injuries besides plenty of bruises and a slight headache from all the rolling and thrashing-...

Shit.

He’d need to find his bow as soon as possible. But, for now, his focus landed on the cuts along his arms, clearly obtained from rolling through rock and water. Blood seeped lightly from them, though not enough to cause Claude any kind of concern. A round of healing from Marianne and he’d be up and about in no time!

Marianne...

His sluggish thoughts of the past years, and of his bow and sleeves seeped away into cold realization. 

Shit. 

He lifted his head sharply, looking around with wide green eyes.

Shit.

Marianne, and Leonie, Raph and Hilda...

Byleth.

He couldn’t see or hear any of them. Nothing but misty woodland and lapping river water filled his sharp vision. No Almyran forces, no Fódlan allies, not a single sight of his beloved Queen...

He remembered suddenly what had happened. An unprovoked bandit attack upon a nearby mountain village had drawn Claude and Byleth, as well as the now gathered representatives of the former Alliance to arms. It was supposed to be a quick and sound victory. So much for that.

Claude remembered fighting alongside Hilda, their Wyverns in perfect sync, as Marianne darted from house to house healing and assisting as many as she could. Raphael had placed himself at Byleth’s side, gauntlets shining as he drew attention away from the Queen so she could finish off the attackers that dared approached them.

Lysithea and Ignatz had taken up positions on higher ground, firing their ranged attacks from safe distances, as Leonie and Lorenz had encircled the village upon their mounts, prodding fleeing bandits back towards the center, refusing to allow the brutal attackers any reprise or escape. Fire crackled, thatched roofs burned off of the stone and wood homes of the village. Claude remembered feeling that familiar sense of protective determination, knowing the innocent people of the village were suffering tenfold.

He remembered the moment when everything seemed handled, until the air had turned cool and the chill of rain began to shift the winds. Claude knew better, that storms did not magically appear in the sky. And yet, this one seemed to come from nowhere, darkening the sky and sending torrents of rain upon them. Visibility reduced, horses began to slip along the mudding ground, and flames began to sizzle away, replacing the air with smoke and steam.

So when the stray archer shot an arrow right through his Wyvern’s wing, he only had time to shout to Hilda before he could feel himself jostling down. Hilda’s Wyvern clung tightly to his, and the two riders held on tightly as they fluttered to the ground.

Claude remembered firing his bow the moment his white Wyvern had been assisted to the ground, and after he had slipped from the saddle, bouncing onto his feet with a curved shot. Even in the rain, the King’s aim rang true, and the stray archer fell from the dripping pine tree. Claude’s eyes shot back towards his Wyvern before they had reached to meet Hilda’s gaze. The pink haired woman had assured him tightly that she would care for his Wyvern, and that no, Claude, they didn’t have time to argue about this, get moving.

Claude supposed he had trusted Hilda’s words because his next memory was rushing back into the fray. As much as he wanted to rush to Byleth’s side or stay with his Wyvern, he was far too smart to let his concern for his wife and mount cloud his battle instincts. He knew she’d tear into him if he tried to break line and fight close range anyway, and that Hilda and her Wyvern were more than capable of protecting his injured friend. 

So instead, he had lunged through the village on foot, rolling under a blast of burning magic and stray arrows. He fired shot after shot from his bow, relishing at each pristine shot. Even so, he was making no large dents in the chaotic numbers of attackers out on foot.

He remembered peering through the rain, only to notice another blast of magic knock down another bandit. Unable to run his horse into a circling sprint again, Claude caught sight of Lorenz switching his tactics. His lance slipped back to his side, and the sting of magic crackled from his hands instead. Claude knew though, that the scorching magic that Lorenz controlled was not being helped at all in the downpour. He could see the frustration in the young Count’s eyes, and Claude made his decision in a heartbeat. He needed to cover the Dark Knight’s back.

Rushing over, Claude remembered shooting another curved shot towards a bandit that he spotted slipping towards the back of Lorenz’s horse. Lorenz’s eyes flickered sharply to the downed bandit, before Claude saw them flash back to another attacker. The bandit’s cut off scream was the only indication Claude had that Lorenz had blasted him away from his horse. Sprinting through the rain, Claude positioned himself at the horse’s side.

Claude did not remember exactly what Lorenz had shouted to him through the rain, but he did recall at one point being pulled onto the back of the dark horse, legs tight upon the saddle as his stomach tensed and he maneuvered his body to shoot his arrows at any approaching attackers. Claude assumed by then Lorenz had realized his fire magic would not be as useful as an archer’s shot, and rather he maneuvered the horse through the rain instead, begrudgingly riding with Claude as they slipped towards a better location to assist the others in repelling the weakening bandits and to deposit Lorenz’s horse somewhere where they could safely dismount her.

Or so they had thought.

The weight of a raging bull slammed into Claude, as the forceful push of magic rippled through the rain. The force was enough, Claude remembered, to send him, Lorenz and their squealing mount down the bordering riverbank. 

He remembered leaving the horse’s saddle. The ice cold envelopment of water. A peek of purple slipping under the raging darkness of the now fast flowing river, the shadow of a horse scrambling to keep above the torrent. He remembered gasping for breath, and then...

Flashes. Desperate breaths, trying to swim. Shouting, worry, gushing far from the village, down the river. Rocks, some sharp, some smooth, buffeting his arms and legs. Instinctive panic and lack of control filled his mind, covering any detailed memory of his horrid trip down the river.

He closed his eyes, the thoughts overwhelming for a moment. At least, until he remembered one key thing.

Shit. Shit shit.

“Lo-“ He coughed wetly, his voice gravely until he cleared his throat and continued.

“Lorenz!” He pulled himself to his legs, stumbling once, twice, before he finally stabilized himself. Reaching to support himself against a nearby tree, he raised his ragged voice louder.

“Shit, Lorenz?” 

Exhaustion was replaced with a renewed bout of adrenaline and concern. The King cursed viciously as he ignored the stinging pain of his new gashes and bruises. Fantastic. He was weaponless, dazed and now missing one prickly politician who could very well be dead. The thought made him feel sick, anger roiling in his veins, before he took a deep breath.

Focus and calmness filled him again. He could dwell on the asinine way he had come to be in this misty forest glade, but for now he was alive, still able to walk, and with a presumably in tact head and body. He was alive, and that was good enough. It was now Lorenz who he was concerned for. 

He trudged along the bank, voice roiled with disuse and effort as he called for the Dark Knight once more.

“Lorenz, complain about something if you’re alive!” 

He ordered, trying to maintain his usual bravado, but failing rather plainly. He limped, teeth gritting together as each step brought another wave of pain. His drenched clothing and battered armor rubbed horribly against his skin. Rain speckled lightly, not as badly as at the village, but enough to bring a shiver of irritation to him. This wouldn’t work.

With a light grunt, he worked the heavier layer of clothes off of himself, the tan material falling to the ground as he gave a faint sigh of relief. With a moment of hesitation, he bent down to lift the wet fabric, grunting as he did so. His cuts stung fiercely at the action.

He folded the outer cloth tightly together, making it easier to carry, before he continued on his limping trek down the bank. All he could think about was his lost comrade. As sharp and grating Lorenz had always been and still was at times, there was no doubt that Claude considered the man of great importance. A piece of the familial puzzle that the Golden Deer had gifted him. If one went missing...

Claude growled and narrowed his eyes, pushing the dark thought away. Goddess or fate be damned, if they dared to take Lorenz now of all times after all they had been through...

The seconds turned to minutes and minutes to half an hour. Claude panted lightly, trying to decipher how far he should go down the riverbank before he would turn around and try his luck upstream. Either way, he resolved himself to not leave the riverside. He would find Lorenz. 

Dead or alive. He would find him.

“Leave it to you, Lorenz...to make things harder than they need to be.” 

The King muttered with a scoff. He suddenly stumbled then, his foot rolling on a smooth pebble. He gave a start before righting himself as one of his feet splashed into the water. Cursing lightly, he felt the chill of the water lap at his pants once again. What a wretchedly uncomfortable feeling.

He shot his head up as another splash sounded in his ears. One he knew for sure did not belong to him. He tensed lightly, knowing he needed to be cautious rather than assume it was Lorenz and not some bandit or animal. He narrowed his eyes and stalked forwards, rounding towards the tree line and pressing close to one of the trunks. Gazing out across the water, his eyes fluttered with relief as he spotted the unmistakable flash of purple that signified the figure in the water was indeed Lorenz. Even through the thick mist he could make out the unique color.

Claude moved back towards the river, ignoring the shake in his legs as he called sharply.

“Lorenz! Lorenz, it’s me, Claude! Thought you’d be dead for sure by now! Seems like we both cheated death here...You think we’ll be able to do it again?” 

He smirked lightly, only for his grin to drop slightly as Lorenz continued to paddle almost aimlessly in the water. He stopped, arms moving to keep him afloat, before a choked inhale of air came from him. Claude watched with chilled confusion as Lorenz ducked under the water, disappearing into the dark depths.

“Lorenz, what the hell?” Claude blanched, legs moving swiftly towards the water as he waded out towards where Lorenz had ducked under. He looked around the water sharply, before a gasp of breath and the sound of water breaking filled his ears. Lorenz had resurfaced close enough that Claude could reach out for him, hand gripping the other man’s arm and pulling him towards shallower depths.

Finally, Lorenz seemed to snap out of his stupor the moment Claude dragged him to a depth they could both stand upon. 

“C...Claude.” He blinked in recognition, and Claude could see the clouded purple of the man’s eyes. Wide and flickering, clearly in deep shock. Claude could tell Lorenz was out of it, and yet also so plainly focused on whatever he was thinking about. Suddenly the Dark Knight shoved away from the King, stumbling on the rolling pebbles under their feet as he grunted out.

“Unhand me. I...” The order was as sharp as usual, and yet Claude could see the man’s annoyance turn to soft desperation as he continued, seeming to peer out across the deeper waters of the river once more.

“She’s under the...Claude, I cannot seem to find...where is she?”

“Lorenz. You’re in shock.” Claude decided with a rare movement of seriousness. He reached to grip the man’s shoulders, holding tight when Lorenz tried to shoot back out into the deeper waters again.

“Stop, right now. Take a breath. Are you trying to drown yourself? Speak clearly, Gloucester.” 

Claude tried, only to grunt as Lorenz’s eyes flashed with the familiar disdain they put up whenever Claude clapped his shoulder or ruffled his hair and darted away.

“Claude, unhand me!” Lorenz hissed.  
“I need...I must find my horse, you daft fool!” 

Oh.

Claude’s chest clenched with sympathy at that. While it seemed whatever goddess or another didn’t want them dead, he highly doubted that Lorenz’s horse would be alive after a fall down the bank and a ride down the river. Although, Claude did wonder idly how Lorenz had flown much father downstream, and why he had not seen the horse’s body earlier. As sickening as the thought was, it made sense why Lorenz had seemed to enjoy diving into the river.

He was trying to feel around the river bottom for his horse. If that was the case, Claude knew she had to be dead then. 

Lorenz stopped thrashing suddenly, seeming to stand still upon the stony river bottom, before he stared directly at Claude. Purple locks plastered to his face, and had they been in a far better position, Claude would have mercilessly reminded the other man of how much better his hair looked now compared to his fiasco of a hairstyle back when they were teenagers.

No. Instead, Claude stared back at him soundly as Lorenz seemed to finally realize who was gripping his shoulders.

“You’re alive.” Lorenz murmured, and Claude could practically feel the exhaustion as well as the hint of hidden relief coming from the other man.

“How did you...Goddess, Claude, how are we-...”

“I’m going to assume that we eat our vegetables and that the river rocks are more bountiful in another river around here. Or we’re damn lucky and we can brag about it later...Lorenz. Come on.” 

He tugged the purple haired man firmly, breath heaving tiredly as he pulled them back towards the shore.

It seemed the realization that Claude was alive had drained the tension from Lorenz, pulled the desperation from his body. Claude felt him go limp, stumbling up the shore with Claude and falling to his hands and knees with bated breaths. Claude stood above him for a moment, before he turned and sat himself down against the bank. He looked up for a moment, misty leaves and canopy blocking the grey skies, ushering shaded darkness upon the land around them. The fog was nearly choking, and Claude found it a wonder he had even seen Lorenz through it.

Leaning back on his cut arms, Claude looked pointedly at Lorenz, who shifted once before slowly looking at Claude. Lorenz seemed to shake his clouded thoughts away, as a more controlled and collected demeanor filled him, much to Claude’s relief.

“We were thrown, into the river.”

“I got that much, Lorenz. Yes.”

A scowl graced Lorenz’s hair-stuck face, and for a moment Claude is reminded of a wet cat, shaky and humorous to witness. 

“Claude, do you...do you have any inkling of where we may be?”

Now that was an interesting question. Claude was assured now that he must have been out of it. Usually it was he who already accounted for questions like that. He glanced around quickly, before he sighed.

“Well. We’re still in the mountains. Can tell by the rocks, the pines too...We can’t have gone that far downstream, or we’d definitely be dead by now.”

“The rain is much lighter here...I can’t recall how long we were in the water...” 

Lorenz’s rasp filled the misty air, and Claude could only sigh lightly as he grunted out, shifting his stinging arms.

“Long enough. Lorenz. Are you hurt? Anything broken?”

For a moment, Claude believed that Lorenz did not hear him, only for the young Count to shift to a position similar to Claude’s, reaching slowly towards his bootless legs. 

In fact, Claude realized with a sudden start that Lorenz’s dark armor seemed to be gone. The other man was reduced down to his pants, a black sleeveless undershirt and long black gloves that stuck tightly to his skin, torn and jostled, but still in place upon his hands and lower arms. The metal gauntlets, shoulder armor and boots were all missing from the Dark Knight.

“I can tell what your thoughts are...I managed to remove the armor during the descend...lest I’d have drowned under the weight. It was...quite difficult to still myself enough to do so. But I managed.”

Lorenz’s pointed voice cut into Claude’s observations, ringing with a hint of frightened reccolection, before the man continued.

“My arms are not nearly as bad as yours, although, I do believe...the water has made me numb to injuries I might very well ha- Oh my.”

Claude followed Lorenz’s narrowed eyes down towards his leg, and Claude sucked his teeth, breathing out.

“Ouch. Ah, that’s one hell of a souvenir, Lorenz.”

Lodged deep in his leg, a long and sharp edged stone could be seen through the dark material of Lorenz’s pants. It seemed Lorenz had been honest when he stated that the cold river water had numbed the wound, though Claude knew with each passing second the pain was beginning to register to the Count. Lorenz’s hand floated above the nasty wound, hesitating for a moment, before his fingers brushed the grey stone lightly.

In a flash, Lorenz yelped with pain, and Claude nearly sprang forward to pull the man’s hand away from the wound. Lorenz was quicker though, his hand flinching back and avoiding the lodged rock before curling into a tight fist and slamming down onto the bank. Lorenz grit his teeth, breathing out slowly between them, before he lowered his gaze slowly towards Claude again.

“Oh yes. How I do...love your incessant comments. Agh. Don’t go near it!” 

He was clearly hiding how deeply the injury was beginning to hurt, much to Claude’s humor and annoyance. Really, it was serious, Claude knew this, and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to treat it as such yet. It was not his style, and Lorenz knew this by now.

“I live to please, Lorenz.” He winked, before his green eyes softened once again and he eyed the wound.

“We’ve gotta get that out, Lorenz.”

“I was not aware, thank you for the observation, your majesty.” 

“Lorenz, that kind of negativity will give you grey hair.”

Lorenz’s exasperated scoff was the best indication that he was okay, mentally at least. Claude was amazed that they did not seem to have brain damage. This would be one hell of a story, when they got back to Fódlan’s Locket. First though, they had to get back.

And there was no way that was going to happen with a rock lodged into Lorenz’s calf. Luckily, it wasn’t a huge rock, and it certainly wasn’t anywhere close to impaling him completely. The wound was far longer than it was deep. Claude looked at it for a while before he decided.

“It doesn’t look horribly deep. It’s gotta hurt like a bitch I’m sure though...Agh, sorry. Not the best time, I know. Alright.” 

He tried to move closer, though Lorenz quickly shifted away. Claude was reminded of a wounded Wyvern, and suddenly he missed his own greatly. Was he alright, after that arrow? Claude’s thoughts slipped back away as soon as Lorenz relaxed again and grumbled out.

“I’d amputate my own leg before I let you attempt to treat it.”

The words were harsh, but Claude knew Lorenz well enough by now to know that the man lashed out to save his pride, hide his pain and to prove he could handle himself. Admittedly, Claude did the same very often. Though, Byleth could see through that in a heartbeat.

Great. Now his heart ached tenfold in concern for his wife. He knew she would be okay, untouchable, indestructible Byleth. But the thought that she was worrying and fretting over him by now caused a coil of disdain to fill him. He hated to make her worry.

“Alright, Lorenz. I won’t go fondling your leg. Though, I think by now that we’re long past puffing our pride. So, I suggest we get that rock out before it really cuts deep into you...Hm. That must be why you’re still kicking. That rock may be cutting into you, but it’s stopping excessive bleeding by being in there rather than out.”

Lorenz nodded once at that, musing out tersely.

“Which is exactly why we cannot just yank it out like barbarians just yet...And why I needed some time to collect myself again.”

“Hm? And why’s that?”

Lorenz’s pointed looks were always grating to see, though in this case Claude allowed it to slide rather easily.

“Because.” 

Lorenz took a few deep breaths before moving his hand back towards the rock again, hovering his fingers over the punctured flesh once again.

“It is going to take quite some effort to start healing it right away. I do not have enough in me to close it fully...but it should be enough until I am more rested.”

Lorenz looked back at Claude, hesitating for a moment as though regretting revealing what he believed was a weakness. Claude could tell the pristine man was also contemplating something he didn’t want to, and could hear the Count’s muted annoyance as he sighed out.

“Claude. As much as I would prefer the help of Marianne or Lysithea, you will have to do. Ignore my previous statement...and pull this rock quickly from my leg. And please, do not make a scene over the blood or me expressing any unsavory noises. I’m going to heal the deepest part of the wound as quickly as I can, and stop the bleeding before it becomes fatal.”

The Count grimaced at the idea of showing weakness before the King again, and Claude could only toss his eyes at the tone of the man’s voice. Inwardly though, the very thought of seeing Lorenz’s blood and hearing him in pain caused a flicker of distress. Even after years of warfare, Claude never enjoyed seeing anyone in pain. Quick deaths, that one mercy, he preferred better options than to see anyone writhing in agony. Especially if it was a friend...or once a friend. Or even prickly Lorenz.

Claude sighed deeply once again.

“It’s a good thing we’re near water, so I can wash the blood off easily. Alright, good sir. Tell me when.”

Claude carefully maneuvered his hands to grip the exposed sliver of stone that stuck from Lorenz’s calf as he snorted with snark, steeling himself as Lorenz choked on a pained growl. The Dark Knight nodded sharply, taking another few deep breaths to relax himself, before he ordered.

“Now, Claude.”

One quick pull of Claude’s sure hands, and Lorenz was hissing like an enraged animal, blood flooding from the exposed wound once the rock sliver was pulled out. Claude watched with both a grimace and wonder as Lorenz thrust his hand above the opened wound, fingers glowing with radiant white light.

Within seconds, the bleeding began to slow, as the deepest part of the wound began to stitch itself back together. Claude could tell it was incredibly painful and required alot of energy, with the way Lorenz’s arm shook and the way his face grew red with effort, his breathing heavy and ragged. 

Finally, after the wound was partially pulled back together, Lorenz caught himself on his arms, head back as he caught his breath. Blood seeped slowly from the red wound, no longer fatal but still rather bad. He glanced once at Claude, sniffing out between breaths of air.

“Hmph. I...I suppose I should thank you for...your assistance.”

Claude scoffed lightly, crawling near the water to quickly scrub the blood from his hands.

“Aw, don’t sound so excited, Lorenz. I can kiss it better for you too if you’d like.”

“Insufferable.” 

Lorenz sighed deeply, still regaining his breath from the exhausting healing. 

“I suppose then...that you do not wish to reclaim your bow? Considering how...important that Relic is.”

Claude’s head snapped up, wet hands ignored as he locked eyes with Lorenz once again.

“Wait. You found it?”

Lorenz simply lifted his hand, pointing through the fog to where a flash of gold sparked through the mist, laid among the pebbles. Claude’s heart sang with relief as he pulled himself up to limp towards it.

“Damn. I might just believe in a goddess at this point.”

“When I could break out of the current, I saw it lodged between two rocks...” Lorenz rasped in response, ignoring the remark from Claude as he admitted.

“It would be a practical crime to allow such a sacred weapon to be lost in some...rancid river.” 

“I could kiss you, Lorenz.” Claude chuckled deeply as he gripped the bow tightly, inspecting for any breaks or damages. He noticed a few scratches and chips at the old material, but it was clearly built to last. Failnaught was still usable.

“Please, refrain from ever doing so.” 

The Dark Knight clicked his tongue in distaste, and Claude could only imagine how he would have much rather preferred Lysithea to be offering that instead. Claude always gave the younger Gremory credit, for managing to bring out a softer side of Lorenz. After all, they had been through trials together that Claude knew not even he could fully understand.

Lysithea would certainly be happy to know her fiance was not dead and drowned in a river. Though, Claude could only imagine the tongue lashing they would get from the young woman, and he found himself wilting with exhaustion already at the thought.

“Really though. Thank you for grabbing it...Wait. Lorenz, what about Thyrsus?” Claude asked quickly.

It seemed Lorenz had thought about that very aspect alot, for he responded with a hint of relief.

“It is safe, back in Gloucester. I found no need to bring it to the summit, nor would I need it for trivial bandit battles...though I suppose I will revise that thought process. Those barbarians were more of a problem than I had assumed. I am only glad that it is not lost in this river.” 

“One less thing to worry about then.”

Claude spoke with resolution, treading his way back towards Lorenz as he clutched Failnaught in his hand. He’d have to fashion some arrows for it if he didn’t want to waste the energy he could pull from his crest to use as arrows instead. That could wait. For now, they needed to figure out the way back to the rest of the group. The roiling fog certainly didn’t help, and Claude felt a sliver of suspicion. Fog was not usually common during this time of the day, at least not when they had been fighting those bandits.

Claude knew better than to doubt the capabilities of the Earth, and yet he was never one to leave things unquestioned. Shaking his head, he shoved the thoughts away and peered down at Lorenz.

“Will you be able to walk?”

The Dark Knight shot the Almyran King a terse look, though it faded rather quickly. Instead, Lorenz took on a more thoughtful and decisive look, gazing down at the half-healed gash on his legs as he sighed lightly.

“I will continue to heal it when I know I have the reserves. For now...I suppose we’ll have to make do with what we have. I need to cover this if I’m going to try walking though.”

Lorenz reached down to grip at the bottom of his pants, about to tear the fabric around his ankle to clearly use to wrap the wound. Claude shook his head quickly, interjecting with a hint of sternness.

“You’ve lost enough of your attire, Lorenz. Here.” 

He tossed the bewildered man the tan outer clothes he had shed earlier, the fabric unfolding partially in Lorenz’s hands. For a moment, the noble looked scandalized, though Claude assumed exhaustion and soreness won the fight against stubbornness in Lorenz’s head.

“I hate to sully such expensive fabrics, Claude.”

“Then it’s a good thing I can get more made for me anytime I want. Besides. I was considering changing it up. Wearing something lighter.”

Claude snickered, ushering the other man to do what he needed. He considered asking Lorenz if he needed help in a way he knew would piss him off, but even he knew when to stop pushing and to let people act independently. The last thing they needed now was a battle of words and wits in the middle of the woods.

Claude would not say it aloud, but watching Lorenz wrap some of the fabric around his wound was rather interesting. Claude could see that Lorenz was indeed skilled with his hands, whether it was lancing, tossing fireballs or wrapping up wounds. The focus on the man’s face outlined Lorenz’s ability to keep his mind on one objective and see it through to the best of his ability. In a sad sort of way, Claude always wondered if the noble had ever had the opportunity to focus on things other than politics, mannerisms or narrow-minded social interactions. Knowing his father, and the lifestyle he was raised in, Claude highly doubted it.

So he supposed as dark as it sounded, he was grateful the former Count Gloucester had kicked the bucket, and that his son had chosen a different path to walk. He was far more open-minded than he used to be. Far more of an inclusive optimist than his father, far more intelligent and far more willing to think outside the box and fight alongside people who did the same.

Lorenz would always be proud, noble Lorenz. But Lorenz was not his father, and Claude knew well enough that Byleth especially would need him alive. She’d need both of them alive, and they’d damn well stay alive. They’d tough it out and trek on back to their Queen as they always did.

Lorenz’s light huffs of effort and pain slowly ceased as he tested the makeshift wrapping. With the remaining fabric, Claude almost humorously commended Lorenz’s tact when he wrapped it around his feet as temporary protection for walking in the forest.

Turning his body to steady on his hands and knees, Lorenz slowly began to push himself up, planting his good leg on the ground as he extended upwards. A deep growl escaped him as his injured leg shook tightly the moment he was forced to apply pressure to it. Claude moved quickly to offer his shoulder.

Lorenz seemed to flinch and scowl for a second, before he grumbled something Claude could not catch. Though, the King soon felt the taller man’s hand clutch to his shoulder as he righted himself on the pebbled shore. Looking away from Claude, Lorenz seemed to peer into the forest.

“Alright. Clearly we know our destination is back upstream. So we’ll start there. By now, Teach should be looking for us with everyone else. We should be able to meet them half-way if we stick to the riverside. Sound good?”

Lorenz did not answer right away, but Claude soon caught his response a few moments later.

“That is suitable, I suppose...I fear we won’t be moving too fast, though I will try and keep pace.”

Claude shook his head, a toss of his eyes signifying his exasperation.

“Lorenz, don’t injure yourself anymore than you already have. If we have to walk slow, we walk slow. Besides, it’s a very scenic route we’ve taken.” 

Claude’s grin stretched across his face as he hummed.

“We can get a good look at the nature around us. Write some poetry about it when we get back.”

Lorenz seemed to flush and scowl at that, twitching with indignation.

“Splendid. Then a wild animal shall emerge from the foliage and lunge at us while we go sightseeing?”

“Lorenz, again, that kind of negativity will give you grey hairs. Though, that’s not to say it might actually make your hair look good for once.”

Claude nearly choked on a laugh at Lorenz’s aggravated spluttering. It really was just too easy to rile the man up, even when he knew good and well that Claude spoke in jest. Most of the time. 

Rather than retort sourly, Lorenz seemed to pull at Claude, grunting out.

“Let us go then. I...I have already been here far too long. With luck, my horse will be somewhere along the way.”

Claude quieted a bit at that, moving along with Lorenz but keeping his gaze in front of them. Claude highly doubted Lorenz’s horse was still alive, and as much as he wanted to tell the noble such, he also knew Lorenz had been through enough to have any reason not to be hopeful. So Claude let him be hopeful, humming out a half-heartened agreement and trudging on, supporting some of Lorenz’s weight as he limped onwards. Claude guided them to a less rocky and flattened path, where mud met stone and created a smoother surface to walk on.

He did not comment on how pale Lorenz looked, or the slight trembles he felt from the hand that gripped his shoulder. Claude could tell that Lorenz’s tumble down the river had been longer and more unforgiving than his. Whether that was some goddess or another’s plan for Lorenz’s pain in the ass attitude, it was hard to tell. Claude would not wish that on the other man though, not even back when they were 18 year old idiots in a monastery training to fight bandits and mock battles.

Back when the church didn’t seem like a pool of lies, back before the war that brought them all together...and tore them all apart.

“You’re far less talkative than usual, Claude.”

Claude’s attention turned to Lorenz, and while Lorenz was not looking at him, Claude could tell the man was genuinely concerned, if not suspicious.

“Please do not tell me you’re hiding some injury, or plotting some scheme. I know you have a tendency of doing so.”

“Nope. I’m pretty put together, surprisingly. I guess I went limp and caught the right current. My arms are a little cut up, but not nearly as bad as the slate you took to your leg. As for the scheme part, that’s always debatable.” 

Lorenz finally turned his head to look at the King. Claude could see the purple iris’ flickering with contemplation and the usual suspicion they always held. He was slightly surprised though when Lorenz’s gaze shot down to his arms. Puffy red cuts marred the darkened skin, shallow yet bothersome. They had already stopped bleeding, even if they stung rather fiercely.

“Can you pull your bowstring, Claude?”

Claude was a bit taken aback by the sudden question, but he showed no sign of it to the Dark Knight. He nodded leisurely.

“I should be fine. A few stings won’t stop me from using Failnaught, Lorenz.”

Lorenz was clearly unsatisfied with the response, because his pristine brow lifted slowly as though asking Claude to repeat his words. Shaking his head, Lorenz sighed out.

“Not even you can guarantee a perfect shot if any kind of distraction marred your form. Once we gain ground, I will treat your arms.”

“Lorenz-“

“It is only because we can’t risk having your shot rendered useless if we truly are stranded out here. If an enemy or animal does find us, your aim needs to stay true. Small cuts are far easier to heal than deep flesh wounds.”

Claude stared at him for a moment, before a sigh escaped him. He truly disliked the idea of taking healing magic that was far more useful to heal Lorenz’s deeper wound for himself. But he knew the other man would keep his foot down until Claude gave in.

“Alright. If that’s what you think is best, I won’t deny your generosity, Count Gloucester.”

“It is what’s best, your majesty.”

Claude could only scoff with humor as Lorenz shot back at him with the same level of retort and sarcasm. He supposed he should be thankful that Lorenz was acting like himself instead of laying dead on the rocks.

“Shut it and walk, Gloucester.”

———

It was easy to tell that as the hour or two of walking passed by, that this river was damn long and it was still foggy as ever. By now, Claude was beginning to grow tired of having to strain his sharp eyes just to see the riverbank and forest before them. True to his promise though, Lorenz was managing to keep up, and Claude found that while the other male had more height, he was not very heavy and was not hard to support at all.

Claude also noticed that by now his arms were really starting to burn. It wasn’t painful, but it was disgustingly uncomfortable, like a million paper cuts embedded into his skin. The sky was beginning to darken even beyond the grey clouds. Soon, night would fall upon them, and they’d be forced to seek shelter. Not too difficult, with how many small caves and large trees Claude had spotted through the fog. The hard part would be having to find a way to avoid Lorenz’s infamously sharp eye for flaws and spaces he deemed uncomfortable.

At least, Claude assumed so at first. But Lorenz was surprisingly compliant, seeming to focus more on walking than on trivial matters. The King wondered idly if he wasn’t giving the man enough credit. As pompous as he seemed, he knew Lorenz had fought in the exact same wars Claude and everyone else had. Knew he had sucked it up before and brunted discomfort to launch attacks and survive the battles.

But Claude was also concerned each moment of silence got longer and longer between them. A compliant Lorenz was a reason for suspicion. Making up his mind, Claude stopped walking and planted his feet, ordering out.

“Alright. That’s far enough for now. Think you got enough juice in you now?”

Lorenz turned his head sharply, almost seeming like he would argue with the King. He opened his mouth, only to shut it tightly and lift his chin. His hair was still a little wet, but now it mostly hung on his shoulder, missing its usual shine and smoothness, now replaced with tattered locks. Claude would have laughed had it not been a serious situation.

“I should be more than sufficient to treat you. Find us somewhere to sit.”

“As you wish, my lord.” 

Claude jibed at the man, pulling him carefully towards a few larger stones that rested near the gushing river. They were far enough to be dry for sitting on, but close enough to the water that Claude could get some for them if needed.

He sat Lorenz down first before seating himself down. His green eyes scanned the area behind them for any noises or movement that may have signified any danger. He looked back at Lorenz once he was sure they were safe, studying how the purple haired man stretched his arms, breathing in a few times before motioning for Claude to lift his torn sleeves.

Claude did as requested, biting back a growl from the discomfort the fabric brushing against his cuts felt. Lorenz seemed to scowl lightly at the offending cuts, though Claude was certain he was angry with the circumstances rather than with him. Lorenz reached one hand out to take hold of Claude’s right arm, his dominant bow arm. His other hand hovered over his wrist and a pulse of white light sparked from his palm.

Claude watched as Lorenz’s hand slowly hovered up his arm, rotating in slow circles as the white magic rippled onto his skin. Claude nearly groaned in relief as the itchy stinging sensation was overcome with a warm and soothing aura. Claude always did find it entertaining, to see Lorenz and Marianne and Lysithea manipulate the magic they trained with so often. While he himself much preferred bows and swords to magic, there was no doubt the abilities were incredibly useful in this situation.

Lorenz exhaled deeply once he had passed along all of Claude’s arm. He took another few breaths before giving another trademark scowl and moving to reach for Claude’s other arm.

“You should save some for yourself, Lorenz.” 

Claude tried to persuade him to look after his own wound, but unsurprisingly the Count paid no mind to the suggestion. He merely ordered for Claude to “cease his suggestions before he used black magic instead of white magic on the cuts”, before he repeated the process on Claude’s other arm. The same warming energy filled and soothed the cuts, until nothing but patchy little scars lined his tanned arms. Claude knew the bruises would have to heal naturally, but the cuts were now no bother at all.

Claude still felt a twinge of guilt though, knowing that even the simple act of healing little cuts had taken alot out of the already tired Dark Knight. Even so, Lorenz seemed determined to use up the magic he had stored up during their slow trek upstream. He began to slowly unwrap the tan fabric around his leg. Claude caught the featherlight grimace Lorenz expressed when the partially healed leg wound was revealed. Pain and aggravation graced the young Count’s face. Puffy red skin and a line of slowly pearling blood was revealed as the fabric inevitably brushed some of the scabbing from the prior wound closure.

Claude whistled.

“Yeesh. Not the worst wound I’ve seen, but on you it just looks wretched. Really Lorenz, I can kiss it for you. I’m sure I have some white magic in me somewhere.”

“Do y-you ever know when to quit?” Lorenz retorted, shooting Claude an annoyed look as he breathed deeply through his nose.

“Hush! You’ll make me lose my concentration.” 

He hovered both of his hands above the wound this time, teeth gritted as Claude assumed he was pulling as much magic as he could from inside of him. White light sparked once again, and Claude continued to monitor the process. Surely it wouldn’t be much more healing left to do.

His thoughts were brutally interrupted as a crack of a branch caused his head to snap around swiftly. His eyes widened as light gleamed through the fog. Quick as a fox, the King lunged for Lorenz, gripping the man and pulling him to the ground.

Lorenz’s shout at the audacity of interrupting his healing, and at Claude’s boorish acts of stupidity was cut off promptly as a burst of fire magic scorched through the air over their heads. Mouth gaping, Lorenz’s eyes widened with surprise. Claude did not waste time reading the man further. Arms now healed, he surged upwards and drew his bow. With no arrows on his person, he had to pull energy from his Crest into the bow. A sharp line of fiery energy extended from his fingers. Drawing the string back, he shot into the fog where the fireball had come from.

The shuffles and grunts of another person was enough to tell Claude that this was most likely a mage. Had some of the bandits followed them? Shit. He gave it no further thought, instead darting to stand in front of Lorenz as the Dark Knight scrambled to his feet.

“Fire magic.” Lorenz coughed before he barked out.  
“Your left!”

True to the statement, the fog lit up once again as fire shot towards their left side. Claude lunged to the side to dodge it again, drawing his bow faster this time. One quick shot, and he could hear the choking gasp of the mage as they plopped to the ground.

Claude took a few breaths, body tense as he looked around quickly. Lorenz was unharmed, having ducked to avoid the fire as well, and was now narrowing his eyes as small flames began to flicker in place of where white magic had just been prior. The lack of a rebound attack had Claude guessing that their attacker had fallen.

At least, until a burst of dark energy filled the air. Lorenz acted quicker than Claude this time, shooting a scorching Sagittae spell through the fog. Though, he was not fast enough to avoid the rush of dark magic that pushed him down onto his side. He was fast enough though, to have his spell make contact with his attacker. Claude could tell by the scream of the second mage that it had struck them. The bright spells had lit up the area enough for Claude to finally be able to see the attackers.

Two mages, now both unmoving and charred with the energy of Failnaught and Lorenz’s Sagittae spell. Claude lowered his bow, waiting a moment for the mages to get up. Once they did not, he pulled his bowstring back once more, quickly aiming a Crest arrow towards them and firing, one, two, to ensure they would not rise again just in case. Once the deed was done, Claude turned sharply towards Lorenz.

“Wretched, rotten...” Claude was thankful to hear Lorenz’s angered complaints as the man rolled slowly back to his knees. His exposed wound had not been healed much further due to the interruption, and Claude could see a few small beads of blood rising again. He moved to Lorenz’s side, demanding.

“You okay? That didn’t break anything? Burn your skin?”

“No...” Lorenz assured, though suddenly he looked more distraught than angry. He asked sharply.

“Claude. Are the mages dead?”

“Yeah. Made sure of it. I didn’t see anymore when you lit the place up. I think they were just stray bandits, but...we can’t be sure. We can’t stay here. We’ll find somewhere more hidden and you can finish closing the wound.”

He reached his hand out to offer to help the Dark Knight up, only to falter as he watched Lorenz’s face roll through a plethora of different emotions. Shock, disgust, concern...fear?

The last one was a millisecond, too fast for anyone but Claude to catch, but it was there and Claude knew that wasn’t a good sign at all. He watched as Lorenz felt his own body for a moment, seeming to pause his hands upon his chest. Lorenz then reached for his leg instead of Claude’s hand. He hovered his fingers above the wound, straining for a moment. A quick breath left him and Claude watched with sharp concern as Lorenz now moved his other hand above the wound again.

A look of intense strain filled Lorenz’s face as Claude watched him try and summon the white magic once again. 

Nothing.

“You must have just run out using that Sagittae spell. Lorenz, don’t strain yourself, let’s get up and find a-“

Lorenz’s eyes trained on his wound, and he moved his hands away. Now he lifted his hand upwards, aiming it at the air in front of them and giving another strained grunt. Finally, Lorenz let his hand fall as he cursed loudly.

Surprised by the vulgar language coming from Lorenz, Claude widened his eyes in slight realization. Lorenz’s rattled words only confirmed his suspicions. The Count’s eyes peered wide and angrily alarmed at Claude.

“That bastard mage!...they used a blocking spell. I’m not out of magic, Claude...but...I can’t even feel it in me to pull anything from it.”

Claude cursed to himself as he watched Lorenz try to pull his magic again, crouched on the stones of the riverbank once again. The torn up riverbank and woods surrounded them, fog still fluttering through the dark woods. Still no sign of his wife, or the other Golden Deer.

And now Lorenz couldn’t use his magic...

Well

Shit.

———


	2. Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Apologies for the wait for the second chapter! College is incredibly time consuming, but hopefully I can update quicker for the next chapter. Once again, please enjoy, I try my best.  
\------

“This is fine. We’ll be fine.”

Claude seemed adamant on assuring Lorenz more than himself that while losing the ability to call upon magic that would be incredibly useful in their current situation was indeed vexing, there was no reason to lose their heads about it. 

By some stroke of luck or more likely hard-trained skill, the two of them had escaped death once again. Claude was beginning to understand why he never enjoyed training with magic. If one was to lose it and wasn’t proficient with another weapon, they’d be a free target in battle. Not to mention the energy it sapped from you and the way it prickled his skin in the scarce times he practiced it in his younger years.

Claude knew good and well that luckily, Lorenz was skilled with a lance as well, precise and brutal. Even so, his lance had been swept away with his armor in the dark river, and there was no way they were going to salvage it by now.

So, Lorenz was basically an open target. With a wounded leg and no way to heal it.

Excellent. Just great.

He ignored the pinch of pessimism in his mind, instead pushing it away for Lorenz’s sake. Crouching beside the taller man, the King inquired.

“Does this kind of spell wear off naturally?”

Lorenz only seemed to grunt with discontent, flickering purple eyes up at the archer as he seethed quietly.

“In most cases I would say yes, obviously. But this spell was clearly more advanced. It is the same one that struck Marianne, back in that battle near the Monastery years ago, do you recall?”

Claude’s memory sharply drew up the image of Marianne writhing on the ground after being struck by a blast of dark magic back during their school days, a skirmish against some tricky mages near the Monastery grounds. He had never seen Ignatz so furious, or Hilda. Beyond that, Marianne had been completely incapable of healing after recovering to her feet, and had been forced to keep behind lines to keep her safe. That was, until Lysithea had broken off from her position and had rushed over to Marianne’s aid.

Byleth had chewed Lysithea out that day for breaking order, but she hadn’t been too harsh, as the white-haired girl had unblocked the blocking spell with magic of her own. Claude had no idea how such a feat worked, but he did know that once Lysithea had explained it, Lorenz and Marianne both seemed to know what she was talking about.

“If Lysithea or Marianne were here, their magic could reverse the block. Even if I know the process, I can’t unblock the spell if it’s my own magic being blocked. Unfortunately, these things do not tend to work the way we’d like them to.”

Lorenz interrupted his thoughts with a dry snort.

“And yet to our outstanding luck, neither my fiancé nor our resident healer are anywhere close to us. And I don’t expect that you’ve learned the intricacies of unblocking dark magic spells?”

Claude shook his head once, a shrug tossing his shoulders up as he admitted.

“I learned basic wind magic and it didn’t stick well with me, so I doubt I can call upon it now. So, no. I can’t unblock this spell. But what I can do, is get us somewhere safer to rest, and help you hold your leg together the old-fashioned way.”

Claude pulled himself back to his feet, his voice a bit more serious than before as he held his hand out to help Lorenz stand back up. The noble eyed Claude’s hand with a hint of stubbornness, and yet he did not deny the aid. Had they been younger, Lorenz would have swatted the offer away. Claude supposed aging and fighting together removed some of that foolish refusal to accept help from an ally. 

Claude pulled the lean Knight back to his feet, waiting for Lorenz to adjust himself with a hiss of pain. Lorenz glared sharply ahead, exhaling the sensation away before Claude felt him lean forwards a bit. The King took that as a sign to move, the bloody cloth of his tan capes hanging from Lorenz’s other hand. Claude hated to admit it, but they’d have no choice but to use the wrapping again.

“I will admit, Claude. I do not peg you for a mage of any kind. You’re far too... 

“What, far too roguish to don such fancy robes and read from my fancy books and call upon my fancy magic?”

Claude teased with an exaggerated accent to his voice, imitating the tones of many nobles he had regrettably been forced to be cordial with these days.

Lorenz scoffed and trudged alongside the King, each limping step outlined with an exhale of effort and pain. The pain was overshadowed though, by Lorenz’s airy retort and sarcasm.

“Far too...agh, sporadic and all over the place, Claude. You...couldn’t sit still and meditate solely on magic forms for the life of you...hng.”

“Thank you, professor Gloucester, would you like to read my mind while you’re at it?”

“There would be nothing...agh, nothing to see if I did.”

Claude almost felt an urge to laugh. As scathing as the back and forth seemed, a part of him felt a twinge of satisfaction at the aspect of trading quips with the dramatic noble beside him. It was almost nostalgic in a way.

“I should drop you after that one, Lorenz. But I’m a better man than that...there! That looks inviting!”

Claude pointed towards an approaching crevice between two large rocks, providing a decently sized space to hide out. There was no way Lorenz was climbing a tree...and admittedly he himself was still not incredibly apt at climbing slippery tree trunks. Not that that mattered. Not at all. 

Claude could practically feel Lorenz’s distaste rolling off him in waves of staunch noble energy. Even so, the purple haired man merely sighed.

“It will suffice." 

Well, that was as good as it was going to get. Supporting the injured Dark Knight, Claude led them over to the makeshift shelter, his boots crunching on leaves and twigs. Lorenz grunted faintly with each limping step, and Claude worried idly if the bleeding would start again, or if the wound was only worsening. He knew they couldn’t stay in this forest for long, and yet the prospect of traveling on foot to reunite with the rest of the Golden Deer was seeming less realistic by the second.

Slipping past tall walls of stone, Claude helped Lorenz down to the ground, the Count’s back pressing to the stone as he drew his injured leg outwards while pulling his uninjured leg up towards his chest. Claude could tell by the way Lorenz stared at the partially healed gash in his leg that the injury looked less than desirable. The angry red wound contrasted against the pale skin of his leg, and while the bleeding had stopped once again, there was no doubt that traversing through the forest was not helpful in keeping it clean.

“Alright.”

Claude started, crouching in front of Lorenz once more. He commanded the taller man’s attention with firm green eyes, and while Lorenz seemed to grace him with his ever so haughty look, there was also a trace of weariness in there that Claude could see. That wasn’t a good sign at all. If anything, it drove Claude to put his all into his words.

“I’m going to clean this off as best as I can." 

He held up the bloody scrap of fabric he had given Lorenz to tie around the wound. Lorenz seemed keen to interrupt him, but Claude was not to be deterred.

“Hold it, Lorenz. I’m going to do that, then I’m going to see if those mages have anything useful on them. If we’re lucky, they’ll have Concoctions. If not, then at the very least we’ll have their robes if we’re going to have to camp out for the night. I won’t be long at all, and if you do get really really scared- “

“Claude. I am not some child- “

“Like really super scared, you just give me a loud call. Believe me, I know you’re good at making your voice be heard.”

Claude felt a smirk rising, even amid the seriousness of the situation. Seeing Lorenz’s face twist with annoyance and the tossing of his purple eyes was the only familiar thing Claude could count on in this situation. Rather than divulge into another squabble, Lorenz shoved at his shoulder with a slim hand, huffing out. 

“Just go, Claude. I will have no need to call you. Believe me.”

Claude grinned, before giving a wink of reassurance. Standing back to his feet, Claude pushed the tiredness from his limbs in favor of mentally prepping himself for what he’d need. Glancing back once at the makeshift shelter, he hesitated before turning back and trekking forwards. They had not moved too far from the site of the attack, and the bubbling of the river could be heard through the misty foliage.

He approached the riverbank first, holding the blood-stained cloth in his hands. Claude grimaced at the sight. Usually, bloody clothing was hardly anything for the King to dwell over. And yet, he supposed it was whose blood that stained the cloth that was the important factor. It was rare, to see the composed Noble in pain or openly exposing his wounds and bloodied visage.

This whole situation was rather fucked up. No healing magic, no clarity from the aggravating mist, the possibility of more attacks around any corner. Dead horse, that too. Poor Rosaline. Her owner may have been a pain in the ass sometimes, but she had always been a calm and lovely horse. Claude couldn’t imagine losing his Wyvern in such a way. Perhaps once the revelation finally set in, Lorenz would mourn her as deeply as Claude expected him to.

Shaking his head, the King lowered himself down to push the cloth into the icy water. While river water was not always the best option, it was currently the only option. Getting hot water here would be impossible without Lorenz’s magic or some sort of container to hold the water in over a handmade fire. 

Oh. Fire materials, that was also now on the list. Easy enough. 

Cleaning out as much of the blood as he could, Claude kept his eyes sharp for any dangers. One more fucking mage would be great, certainly, since they seemed to enjoy harassing him on a daily basis. He flitted his eyes back down to the water, sighing out as he rang out the fabric. Water and traces of blood dripped out, dancing down the river. A few more dunks and rings, and the King was satisfied enough to stop his ministrations.

Claude lifted back up, folding the washed fabric up tightly, before padding his way back up the riverbank. He grunted quietly with exasperation as he tried to locate the dead mages once again. Luckily, the Sagittae spell left behind some noticeable scorch marks, and only a few minutes of tracking led to fruition. 

Claude approached the body of the mage that had launched the initial fire attack. At least, he could assume so by the highlights of red on the mage’s dark robes. A clean and charred puncture wound through the mage’s chest signified the point where Failnaught’s burning arrow had pierced through. The cauterized wound left no blood, thankfully, so the robes were not soiled badly. More importantly though, Claude noticed a pouch around the mage’s waist.

Pulling it off the body, he dug through the leather pouch. For a moment he perked with hopefulness when his fingers brushed against glass. 

Only for the King to scowl as he pulled out an empty Concoction. Clearly the mages had been busy prior to this, if they had already used their stocks. Even so, the glass bottle would be incredibly useful. Feeling around again, he pulled out a few coins and strange charms, sighing with disappointment. Tying the pouch around his own waist, he turned away from the fire mage to go inspect the other one.

Now, this death was a little messier than the first mage’s. Lorenz’s Sagittae spell had always been brutal but seeing it up close tended to make Claude introspective. The wounds were similar to the ones created by Failnaught, but rather than one clean puncture, dozens of ugly and blistering puncture wounds lined along the mage’s body. Lorenz hadn’t hit the mage in the center, but he had struck close enough and accurately enough to brutalize the left side of the dark mage.

There was far more blood, even if most of the wounds were cauterized as well from the heat and force of the spell. Claude huffed with distaste at the half-mangled body, moving to search this mage for any useful items too. Once again, disappointment clouded Claude’s mind when this mage’s pouch produced yet another empty Concoction.

“Oh, give me a damn break." 

The King muttered to himself. He shook out the pouch, only to perk in interest once more as a leather waterskin fell from the larger pocket. That was more like it! Survival instincts set in, and his father’s training echoed in his head. So long as water inside the glass bottles remained in contact with the glass, it would not melt in the heat of a fire This would be their best bet in getting hot water. As for the waterskin, this would be the best way to store heated water.

“Thanks for giving me a damn break.” He changed his words with a coiling smirk, before putting the skin and glass bottle back into the pouch along with the cleaned scrap of fabric he had washed out earlier. Eyeing the dark mage, he decided against taking the robes, as they had been thoroughly torn and burned by Lorenz’s magic.

Instead, he sauntered back towards the other mage, clicking his tongue with pity.

“Sorry about this. Though, you aren’t going to be using these robes anymore, so, thank you for your humble donation.” 

Working quickly, he stripped the outer layers of the robes, carefully inspecting and folding them under swift fingers. Unwilling to waste energy and leave himself open to another attack, Claude decided against attempting to bury the mages, leaving them to the Earth and animals who would take care of the job instead.

Feeling content with his findings, Claude righted himself and began peering around the underbrush for any ideal materials. Had they been closer to Almyran side of the border, he’d be confident in knowing the kinds of plants that could help temporarily with Lorenz’s wound. But Claude did not trust this forest or this particular location one bit. The plants looked rather different from the usual Almyran varieties, except for a few plants that Claude knew were very poisonous.

That would be the worst thing to bring Lorenz at this moment. Or, the best thing, if he wanted to freak the other male out a bit. 

No. Bad. Bad thoughts, bad Claude.

He gave a breathless laugh as he scolded himself, instead scrounging up as many dry sticks and twigs he could find. He pulled off some tree bark as well, eyeing it thoughtfully. Hopefully the mist hadn’t made the wood and bark useless in terms of making a fire. Well, no use in dwelling too much on it. An instinctive pull to get back to his injured companion ushered him back into action. Claude stepped quietly through the forest, scouting out the familiar rushing of the river.

He quickly filled up the waterskin and empty Concoction bottles with water, huffing as a faint chill rattled his legs. He was growing rather tired of being cold and wet, especially when he was so used to the dry warmth of Almyra’s cities. Blast it. All these invasive thoughts and distractions. He was supposed to be more focused than this! Perhaps the ride down the river did more damage than he thought.

Or, he was just more worried than he could admit. Oh, that was the worst, to feel that way.

“The longer you stay out here daydreaming, the longer your ally is open to be attacked...Look at me, I’m starting to sound like Lorenz now. Nag nag nag.”

He muttered to himself, finishing his filling procedures and securing the water back into one of the pouches. Finally, he felt ready to make his way back to the Count. Even in the fog, Claude’s tracking skills were sharp and concise. Finding his way back to the rocks was not too much of a problem, albeit it was a bit difficult to keep an eye out for any dangers. He returned to the gap between the large rocks, surprised and relieved to see that Lorenz had already started to construct a fire pit.

“Never took you for the camping type, Lorenz.” 

The King shuffled up to the hunched over Count, noticing how Lorenz was keeping as much weight off his injured leg as possible, hobbling on his good knee and arms. At least until Claude announced his abrupt approach, and Lorenz nearly stumbled to the ground with surprise and hostile defensiveness. Once he noticed who had approached him though, Lorenz relaxed a bit and positioned himself back into his awkward half kneel.

“Hmph. If there is one thing I know a lot about, it is how to create and manage a fire. I did not wake up one day with fire spells on my tongue.”

Lorenz glanced at the fire pit, and an almost wistful gaze shadowed his face.

“I began a long time ago with constructing fires and using that as my base of control. I know how to do such things, Claude.”

The wistfulness was gone, replaced with faint indignation. Claude brushed it off and shrugged.

“I’m not doubting you...It’s getting dark. Let’s start a fire, and I’ll let you decide on how we can best treat your leg with what we’ve got.”

The King settled himself down against the opposite wall of rock, looking pointedly and evenly at Lorenz as he shuffled to carefully seat himself against his own side of the wall. The two men looked at eachother for a moment, before Lorenz extended his hand.

“Let me see what you’ve found, then. Were there any items that could substitute for White Magic healing? Or any maps that could assist us in deciphering our location?”

“Nope and nope. Concoctions were both empty, so I filled the bottles with water instead. We can use those to heat up water. There was no map, so the mages must have known this area well or were lost like us. I did find a waterskin, and the one mage’s robes were in good condition. Can’t say the same for the other mage, with his body needled with a Sagittae spell.”

Lorenz lifted his head, looking away from the items he was inspecting to now peer at Claude. A clear sign of relief was on the Dark Knight’s face as he held up the waterskin and glass bottles.

“Well. You are correct in saying these will be useful. So long as we can start the fire, we should be sufficiently set. If we have enough kindling and material, I’m sure you can spare a use of Failnaught to ignite the fire?”

Claude tipped his head back against his arms, crossing his ankles over eachother as he grinned.

“It’s like you know me so well, Lorenz. Though, admittedly I don’t often use Failnaught as a firestarter.”

Lorenz spluttered lightly, and Claude assumed that the Count was rather embarrassed to have a relic compared to such a trivial thing.

“No, that is not what I mean. I am not disrespecting the weapon...I’m simply using what we have, and Failnaught is- “

Claude cut the other man off with a laugh, relishing in the scarlet blush that adorned Lorenz’s pale cheeks. The King assured him.

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant. Don’t be so embarrassed. It’s a very clever use of the relic out of battle. You know, if you spent less time vying to be prim and proper, you’d make a decent field tactician yourself.”

“Yes, well if you spent less time vying to be a chaotic nuisance, you’d make a decent companion to be stranded in a forest with.”

“Aw, I’m hurt. Aren’t I decent enough as I am?”

Lorenz huffed deeply, choosing to ignore the King and instead turn his attention back to the fire pit. He seemed to study the circle of rocks with deep concentration, before he gave a soft and frustrated sigh.

“I’ll start it.”

Claude assured with a sudden tone of understanding.

“Don’t think about your magic right now. We’ll get back soon, and we’ll get everything unblocked. But we really need to clean your leg up. So, move back a bit so I can light this thing up.”

Lorenz averted his eyes stubbornly, and Claude could tell that the man disliked the fact that Claude could read him so easily. In all honesty, Claude had always been able to read people, and while Lorenz could hide parts of himself with ease, many times he was an open book. Honest and clear to a tee, there were moments in the years he had known him that he had realized the preconceived notions of snobbish arrogance were genuine for Lorenz.

Lorenz was never trying to fabricate lies to make himself seem superior. Every word he spoke and every social fiasco was a product of the only kind of upbringing he knew.

Claude knew this better than anyone. How one’s environment could create or destroy a person’s hopes and dreams and emotions. It was far better to know now that the honesty in Lorenz’s eyes was clear. He was loyal to him and Byleth, even if pride made it difficult to admit it. Claude did not need to hear the words to see it in Lorenz’s eyes. He looked away from Claude because he didn’t want to admit that Claude’s assumption was true, to admit that he was showing any sign of weakness in front of the King, and Claude knew it.

Lifting Failnaught into his hands, Claude waited for Lorenz to shuffle himself a few feet away from the pit. The King settled the sticks and twigs down, before placing the bark evenly among the pile. Stepping back a few meters, Claude drew energy from his core, feeling the buzz of his Crest ripple through his body. A sliver of red lined up on the bowstring, and Claude focused deeply to lessen the intensity of the makeshift arrow. Lining up his shot, he released the weakened energy. Within seconds of impact, the bark caught fire, popping lightly with glowing embers.

Claude hoped the fire would sustain in the mist, though luckily it seemed it was less thick between the rocks. Even so, Claude knew they couldn’t burn the fire for too long, lest the smoke caught up too much in the fog. Lorenz seemed to agree with his mental statement, already pulling to his knee again to reach for the glass Concoction bottles. With caution, the Count slipped one of the glass bottles next to the fire, withdrawing before he could get burned. Claude had always assumed Lorenz could protect his body from burns with his magic. But now, without it, could the man be burned?

He filed away the information for later, as he usually tended to do. Walking back towards the small fire, Claude took to settling down across from Lorenz once again. He eyed the wound and sighed out.

“It’s getting real dark. I can tell even through the mist and clouds. How do you suppose you want to decide who gets first watch? If you don’t want to...”

Lorenz turned his head pointedly towards him, and the steadiness of his voice contrasted the nearly unnoticeable trembling of his body, that Claude just so happened to suddenly notice.

“I will take first watch, Claude...as much as I detest being in such deplorable conditions...even I can admit that you are deserving of a rest. And of course, I’d rather tend to my leg in relative peace and quiet.”

Claude rolled his eyes lightly at the statement, though he found it in himself to be warmed by the taller man’s rare praise. Clearly, he was doing something right if Lorenz was acting so civil.

Or, something was wrong.

Claude always trusted his instincts. They had led him to survive this long, many years on his own, many years alongside his allies. He was not one to deny them. So, the conflict in his mind was one to mull over.

One part of him was deeming that Lorenz was fine and was just being his usual stuck up but still caring self. The cold and stress were merely straining on the taller man, and some good rest and tending would have him back in a suitable manner in no time. That was the hope.

Another part of him was concerned, noticing small things about the Count that hadn’t been present a few hours prior back at the river. The constant featherlight trembles, the consistent paleness. His often refusal to engage in their usual discourse at each turn now. Was he just simply tired? Claude could only hope so.

Either way, Claude was not foolish enough to deny that sleep was something he needed desperately, and time and a healer’s hand was something Lorenz needed desperately. There was no point in arguing, even if Lorenz’s statements were clearly aimed to be sharp. This time, it was Claude who stopped in the crossfire of snark, casually tossing the washed fabric and half of the mage’s robes towards the purple haired Count. Lorenz scrambled to catch it before they snagged in the fire.

“Will you please refrain from throwing clothes into a fire, Claude?”

“Will you please refrain from hounding my ass, Lorenz? Take them and do what you gotta do. Wake me up if anything spooky tries to cut you up, or when it’s time to switch.”

Lorenz pushed himself back into a more comfortable position, purple eyes sharpening at Claude’s quick and smooth response. In another moment of concern, Claude watched him turn his gaze away and back towards the glass bottle next to the fire. The water would take some time to heat up, but Claude was confident that Lorenz could handle injuries better than he could. Something still didn’t settle well with the King, though.

Lorenz ignoring bait was not something he was used to. He made it a point to keep that in his mind.

Exhaustion finally settled into the King’s bones, bruises blotching his body and soreness aching in his feet. Even though he was always a light sleeper, he felt enough trust for his companion to allow himself a moment’s rest. He couldn’t ever be too careful though.

Claude learned long ago to never turn his back to the world, and to always sleep with one eye open. 

The soft sounds of the fire and the muted breaths of effort from Lorenz as he tended to himself lulled Claude into as good of a sleep he was going to get. He would devise the next course of action once they were safer in the morning, hopefully with more clarity in the strange forest. His eyes slipped shut, and his mind wandered.

———-

....

_Where..._

_Dark, it’s dark but..._

_Blinding light now. Shadows. Fire?_

“They say that the fires won’t be put out in- “

“Don’t touch that, you filthy half- “

_No no no_

_This place is not the same. Whispers, cacophonies of sound, scorn, silence._

_Silence_

_No no. He wasn’t-_

“Silence! Have you no shame, boy? Look at you!”

“What are we going to do?_”_

_Trying. He was trying, why couldn’t they see that-_

“See that you’re nothing but trouble”

_Trouble, trouble_

“Claude, we’re in trouble- “

_Where? Where did he have to go now? Under the stars, there is no watching eye. No goddess or prayer of desperation. Why is it so bright? Dark? Both, agh-_

_Just him, just his burden. Just-_

“Trouble, Claude, we’re all in- “

_In over his head. Foolish, never going to succeed like that. Anyone with half of a-_

“Half-breed”

_He hated it, hated it, he wasn’t-_

“Wasn’t the professor always telling us to always move forward. Never look back?”

_No_

_She wasn’t gone. She wouldn’t leave him, she wasn’t-_

“Gone...She’s gone”

_No._

_No!_

_Come back!_

_How long would he have to wait? To see her again. How much trouble, how many fires would be snuffed out before she was back at his side? Empty skies, bright? Dark? What was it?_

_He was only-_

“I am only half of what I am without her, my other half- “

_Half-breed_

_Trouble_

_Claude._

“I love you.”

_Wake._

_Up._

_Wake up_

** _Wake up!_ **

—————

“Wake up.” 

Claude’s eyes shot open, the traces of his horrendous whirlwind of memories spinning around the green iris’. Long hair and a quiet yet demanding tone registered in his mind. His blurry eyes tricked him.

Byleth?

...

No. A blink was all it took for the sounds and darkened sight to attach itself together. Lorenz. Byleth wasn’t here. She was probably camping out, probably searching for them. 

No. The person urging him awake and out of his nightmare was Lorenz. A stab of disappointment filled him, that Byleth was not the one waking him. His body thrummed with anxiety, a desire to hold his wife close and know all the whispers of his past meant nothing to her.

Lorenz could never understand that.

Claude could appreciate him pulling him out of the chaotic dream though. Blinking his moment of shock away, Claude pulled his back away from the stone wall, stretching out the stiff muscles. He hummed out, forcing his anxiety away with a curious and relaxed mask.

“Mm? Something wrong, Lorenz?”

“Quite some time has passed...I would say it is your turn to keep watch...”

Claude remembered quickly where they were, almost twitching with realization before he released a deep yawn. Shaking his sleep away, he sighed out.

“Alright.”

Glancing down, he took note of the nearly wrapped fabrics around the Count’s leg, as well as the empty Concoction bottle. The fire smoldered into weak cinders, still warm, only certainly by Lorenz scrounging around for more kindling material. That meant Lorenz must have cleaned the wound as best as he could and covered it promptly in the few hours Claude was able to sleep. Good. At least one of them had a productive night so far.

Sleep was out of the question for Claude, so switching watches was ideal anyway. He snorted out lightly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be the best watchman you’ll ever have. Careful not to disturb your hair, Count Gloucester. After all, you’ve finally got it looking decent.”

“Silence...nuisance...”

Claude caught the muttering from the other man as he seemed to lull near the dwindling fire. He was clearly exhausted too, based on how little of his venom he responded with. Claude watched him press the mage’s robes to the ground, and lay rather gracelessly on his side, his back turned away from the King. 

Claude could just barely see the pale skin of his companion in the darkness, peeking from between his undershirt and gloves around his shoulders. Lorenz’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, a sign of a swift sleep. Almost too swift. He really shouldn’t be letting his thoughts bring paranoia to his mind. They were going to be fine. They always managed.

Pushing the rising concerns away once again, he looked at Lorenz for a moment longer, before tilting his head up to try and peer up at the sky. Nothing but darkness, shrouded and thick. What a goddamn disappointment. Feeling so detached from the very sky that always filled him with peace in his darkest times.

He hoped, that Byleth would find him, find them, as she always did. For if he had to settle for not seeing the sky...At least he could have faith in the star that could never disappear.

He crossed his arms, and waited.

———-

Morning rolled around faster than Claude had expected. The darkness lifted back into a muggy grey, and luckily it seemed the fog was less intense. At this point though, Claude was suspecting foul play. No fog would persist like this unless it was being manipulated. And if two mages had attacked them so easily the day prior, there was no telling how many other mages could be poking around with mist and fog spells to guard their schemes and wares.

Either way, the lighter visibility was welcomed for the skilled archer. It would make this next part much easier. 

His stomach clenched with hunger, a sign that they had indeed been out here for quite some time. Food had not been on the forefront of their minds after being tossed down a river and attacked by mages. But now, food would be imperative in making sure they would be fully prepared to keep moving. Claude was confident in his hunting abilities, especially after years of training and providing for himself. Hunts with Leonie were always helpful too. He’d have to remember to thank her properly for taking him on some of those hunts when they reunited with the group.

“Alright then. Rise and shine, Count Gloucester, your time for beauty sleep has long since passed. And I do mean long.”

He sang out the awakening with a hint of mischief, remembering how much easier it was to rile up the purple haired man during early mornings when he was unable to enjoy some tea or a full breakfast. The King clambered to his feet, shaking away the last remainders of sleep as he moved towards Lorenz’s laying form. Claude shifted a pebble on his boot, flicking it upwards to patter against Lorenz’s back in a makeshift attempt to awaken him.

A deep inhale and a faint grumble echoed from Lorenz’s chest, his flank rising slowly as though his lungs were expanding as much as they possibly could. The sudden yet strikingly noticeable shudder when he exhaled made Claude pause for a moment. It wasn’t until Lorenz shifted and moved to pull himself up on his arms that Claude let himself breathe. Even so, the King noticed how exhausted the Count still looked. Pushing down his instincts for the time being, Claude tried once more.

“Goodness, my good lord. I always forget how tired you look when you have to sleep outside. Remind me to bring a spare pillow on our next mission. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Lorenz’s returning scowl was slow, and yet he seemed to recognize Claude’s attempts at their normal conversation. With another ragged exhale of breath, Lorenz brought a hand up to his head, grimacing as he slid his fingers through his tangled hair. With a quick repetition of sliding fingers, he worked to tame his hair. He did not look directly at Claude, but he did certainly snap back.

“I so vehemently request that you not kick rocks at me to wake me up, Claude...Goddess…”

He cut off suddenly, the genuine aggravation in his voice sending a flicker of indignation through Claude’s veins. He sounded like he did years ago, with a hint to his tone that Claude had noticed lessened immensely during the 5 years’ war. Even his eyes looked overly serious, overly offended, and in that moment, Claude knew something was not right. He could tell when Lorenz was snapping in sarcastic response or if he was genuinely being hostile. Claude detected the latter with a spark of distaste and concern.

“Well, now that you’re awake, we need to find something to eat. We should be fine on water with the other glass bottle and the skin. We’ll need to refill the bottle you used...speaking of that, how’s the leg feeling?”

Lorenz seemed falter a bit, as though mulling the question around in his head. After a few seconds of silence, the Count narrowed his eyes, irritably shifting his wrapped leg up closer to his body. He sighed tightly at the King, once again looking towards him but not directly at him.

“If you would be kind enough to give me a moment to assess it, I’ll be happy to tell you.”

Claude shifted his feet, Failnaught pressing lightly to his palm as he squeezed his fingers a bit tighter. Lifting a brow at the Count, Claude withheld his desire to snap at the man, instead placing up his mask of leisurely control. He monitored the misty stones and woodland around them, getting a much better view of their current shelter. It really was a nice little gorge, hidden well and protected from most of the winds, and the stone fragments near the bottoms of the walls could make decent arrow heads. Though, constructing arrows took a lot of time, too long for Claude to consider making some now. Well. He supposed so long as he was kept in good health, Failnaught would live by its namesake, and wouldn’t fail him.

Lorenz’s sudden noise of discomfort broke Claude’s train of thought, his razor-sharp eyes flickering towards the partially unraveled fabric on Lorenz’s leg. The wound was much cleaner now than it had been before they started the fire last night, but from what Claude could see, it was still in need of a healer’s touch. Puffy and red, still a beacon against the pale white skin. As much as hot water and pressure helped, the wound was not going to close overnight, nor in a day or two. Luckily, the bleeding seemed to safely stop, and the fabrics were hardly stained. That was one upside to everything, Claude supposed.

“...It is the best we can do, at this moment.” Lorenz murmured, hanging his head lightly as he closed his eyes. Another inhale. Another faintly irregular exhale. His brows furrowed as though in pain, and Claude could only watch for so long before his curiosity and concern set in. Stepping closer, he tried to look at the wound, as well as the man bearing it.

“Lorenz, does it hurt? I can try and-”

He didn’t expect to see Lorenz snap his head up so sharply, a fierceness glowing in his violet eyes as he hissed out.

“_Don’t touch me_!”

Claude stepped back a step, and even Lorenz seemed a bit startled by his own shout. Claude watched the Count’s eyes flicker downwards, before they slid to the side and then back towards Claude again. His mouth opened, and yet no sound came out for a few moments. Claude watched him with unblinking eyes, piercing and studying in the aftermath of the surprisingly hostile snap.

Finally, a tired sigh escaped the Count, and Claude felt his anger wash away quickly once he saw Lorenz move to pull himself up to his feet using the stone wall beside him. He seemed to be able to put more weight on his leg now, but it wasn’t the wound that concerned Claude. It was the way his eyes darted around at sudden moments, and how he seemed to grimace from another kind of pain. 

“Proceed with your hunting, Claude...I will go get the water, and more materials for another fire…”

Claude felt horrendously conflicted at that. Clearly Lorenz was not in the best state. He either needed more sleep or he needed more time to wake up. Or both. Most likely both. His mood was sourer than Claude could remember, and his breathing was still off, with deep inhales and ragged exhales. Claude could only come to one conclusion now, one that really piqued his concern.

“Lorenz. You’re getting sick.”

For a very long moment, only the faint rustling of leaves and the quiet gushing of river water could be heard. Claude kept his eyes steadily on his companion, watching every small movement of Lorenz’s face and body. He seemed to stare past Claude for a moment, before his eyes finally met the King’s. A defensive sort of light filled him, and his voice was raggedly stubborn as he sighed.

“It’s hardly anything to worry yourself over, Claude. One would seem sick after nearly drowning and sleeping on rocks...Give me a few moments. I will be fine.”

_Bullshit_.

Claude wanted to spit the word out, shake the other man’s shoulders, though he knew better now than to try and reach out for the snappy noble after his little outburst earlier. Instead, the King shook his head firmly, putting a bit of authority into his voice. While he was not one to ever try and order others around, this was something he was not going to ignore. Lorenz could have hurled any remark or look at him, and he still would be damned if he let the man ignore any kind of illness simply because he was feeling stubborn.

“For someone who’s a recognized healer, I didn’t think you’d be so stubborn as to deny the clear signs of early illness, Lorenz.”

The air seemed to grow tense at that, and while Lorenz’s face bore nothing but a frown and a burst of indignation, Claude could practically feel the denial rolling off the other man. Either Lorenz was refusing to admit his symptoms out of pride… 

Or he was genuinely trying to deny the idea of himself getting sick. The faint fear was tangible, each second Claude monitored Lorenz’s eyes and face. Lorenz was clearly hiding it, and had it been anyone besides Claude, or Lysithea, he would have succeeded easily. So, Claude felt a little less ticked when Lorenz tossed his eyes.

“And for someone who is not a recognized healer, your sense of deduction could certainly use some work. Cease this argument, Claude." 

He tried to move then, and Claude crossed his arms, lifting his brow knowingly as Lorenz’s limping steps held a level of shakiness to them. He could still clearly move and think and snarl at the King, but it was easy to see the man was beginning to wear himself down. Had he not been so snappy, Claude would have considered trying to feel his skin for a sign of fever. He would have to deduct Lorenz’s ailments from afar. 

If they were lucky, which was debatable with all yesterday’s and this morning’s events, then he was merely suffering from a light fever due to stress or a prior illness. Though, that seemed unlikely given how well he was fighting in the battle before they were rag dolled into the river. So, Claude realistically deducted the unlucky option, in that the wound was infected. He didn’t doubt Lorenz’s healing and medical abilities, but without the proper magic and treatment techniques, not even he would be able to fully clean a wound with only hot water. The river water could have been infested with filth too, for all they knew in this damned forest.

“There is no argument. Because I’m not letting there be an argument. We’re past this, Lorenz, you don’t have to deny help, even from me.”

Each walking step from the Count was a testament to his refusal to accept Claude’s words. That was another warning sign to the King. Lorenz was not stupid, and he was not foolish enough to deny the truth when he was in his typical state of mind. This irritability, the rising of his voice, were clearly indications of stress, at least, from what Claude could tell. Indications of someone irritable from pain.

Claude knew that feeling all too well. Years of adapting never truly took away the suffering of feeling ill and helpless.

“Such rich words, coming from you.”

Lorenz’s hiss sparked an inevitable sting in Claude’s chest that evaporated the King’s wallowing memory. He stepped forwards then, moving to walk at Lorenz’s pace before stepping ahead and blocking the limping man’s path. There was no anger in the King’s eyes, but there was refusal. A refusal to be brushed aside and spoken to in such a way, even if the Count wasn’t feeling all that great.

“And what do you mean by that, Count Gloucester?”

“It means, _your majesty_, that you’re bathing in hypocrisy by accusing me of denying your help, when you have decided…to take charge of this world without breathing word of most of it to your allies.”

This conversation was always the hardest one for Claude to keep his head about. Partially because he knew his Golden Deer were justified in feeling such ways after his sudden departure to Almyra. For nearly 6 months, he had worked to secure his position and to bring changes to his homeland before he had returned to his Wife, to unite their Kingdoms after the War on Derdriu. Byleth had nearly lost, until Claude had arrived with the Almyran reinforcements. As much as he loved to treasure the look of relief and happiness on Byleth’s face, he also remembered the aftermath of the battle, the questions spilling out from Hilda and Marianne, from everyone he knew.

From Lorenz, who even in those 6 months, had still changed once again. Changed into an even more capable leader and friend under Byleth’s steady rule. Had taught Byleth the dance of politics in his steed, who managed the immense Gloucester territory after his father’s sudden death, and who helped Byleth obtain the dream she had now shared with the Almyran King. Rightfully so, Lorenz had been harsh in his questioning of Claude upon his return, and the memory of an old conversation of theirs during the 5 Years War rang in his head. Of him disappearing, of Lorenz believing he was speaking about his death in battle.

Of a world being ever so dull, without him. 

Claude could only assume that a part of Lorenz kept that mantra in his head, and their hidden yet solidly built threads of trust and camaraderie between them had been plucked harshly by his sudden leave.

So, Claude could only breathe in, and prepare himself for the argument that they were going to have.

“Yes, yes, you may launch the onslaught about my decision to go back to Almyra. You can continue to be stubborn, and lash out at me, Lorenz, but this has nothing to do with you being injured and falling ill.”

“A _King_.” Lorenz rasped suddenly. “You were a _Prince _of _Almyra_, and the heir to Duke Reigan, all at once. You turned Fódlan upside down in a way _nobody_ has ever before…”

Each word seemed to brim with exhaustion and conflict, as Lorenz stopped, trying to shove past the King. Claude did not budge, eyeing him calmly in wait for him to continue.

“Of your Almyran General and Holst meeting…of your connections to all these significant people. All this, you never told us…And then you left, without a word. You _left_.”

A fire lit in Lorenz’s eyes, and had he not had his magic blocked, Claude would have been convinced that the Count would have burned him with his gaze alone. Purple tresses flowed down his shoulder and back, ruffled and dull from lack of ability to care for it properly.

“Do _not_ assume that I am the one who refuses help and is stubborn when…when it is _you_ who is constantly doing so. Claude. Move.”

“No.”

Claude rumbled suddenly. All traces of leisure faded into firmness. The King’s brows furrowed, his chin lifting as he looked up into the man’s eyes, dull purple meeting sharp green. He stood his ground, refusing to be accused of anything, to have his reasons be undermined, even if Lorenz had a right to think so.

“No. I have always depended on you. You, and all the others. On Byleth. The details of my past don’t matter when it comes to who I trust and who I fight for. I had my reasons, but not once were they ever reasons that would jeopardize any of you.”

Lorenz tried to move past him again, but Claude was firm. Even though he was shorter than the Count, he was far stronger and sturdier at this moment, and he could see the anger rising in Lorenz’s eyes. The King continued.

“You’re limping and shaking, your temper is raging, and your response times are slower than ever. I don’t need to be a medical prodigy to know when somebody is getting sick…Lorenz, not even you would do something as stupid as to strain yourself further when we’re out here on our own.”

For a moment, it seemed that Lorenz was inclined to give in.

The moment ended though, as a rare flash of aggression filled the nobleman’s eyes. He shoved hard this time, pushing past Claude as he stumbled forwards, gasping out.

“You jeopardize us each time that you…that you keep information from us. By now I…I should have hoped you would trust in-…” He cut off, gritting his teeth as though holding back a secret of his own. The purple haired man huffed out tightly.“We must get back, we have obligations, we have…we have partners who must be worried ragged for us. Claude, in either scenario…I refuse to remain docile, and we must keep moving. I am not some frail child. I am not some-… “

The ranting slowed to a deep hum, and Claude felt the tension in his body roll away as tired realization filled him. Crunching over leaves and stones, the King ignored the fact that the Count had bodily shoved him to get past him. Instead, he watched the man lift a hand to his head, staving off what seemed like a deep headache. As Claude feared, he was wearing himself out.

He inwardly scolded himself for letting his own mask slip, for letting the snaps of a sickened man evoke any outrage in him. Instead, he silently gripped Lorenz’s shoulders, ignoring the tense twitch in response. With a bit of pressure, he gently pushed Lorenz back towards the stone walls. Under his hands, Claude could feel warmth, too much of it. Indeed, it was feverish skin he was feeling. With the fight drained from his body, Lorenz exhaled deeply, too focused on the pain in his head, from what Claude could tell.

“Please, Lorenz. Lay back, drink some of the water.”

Claude ordered, firm yet light, a testament to his ability to put aside parts of his scheming personality to aid one of his Golden Deer. One who was clearly succumbing quickly to whatever illness was plaguing him. He supposed it was probably due to Lorenz’s tendency to not eat as much as he should, damn him. Even if he may have improved vastly from their academy days, Claude still roiled each time Lorenz would pick lightly at his food like a rich-feathered bird.

Lorenz tried to pull away at first, tugging his arm up to grip at Claude’s. The attempt was half-hazard at best, not out of physical weakness, but out of Lorenz’s sudden lack of aggression. He just seemed downcast now, embarrassed, if not conflicted. Exhausted. It exhausted Claude just to see him like this. Lorenz finally relented, breathing deeply through his headache as the Almyran King settled him back down against the stone. He settled his injured leg down carefully, closing his eyes as he assured.

“…It’s just a headache. It will settle itself out, Claude. We should not stay here for so long.”

Claude shook his head lightly, settling into a mode of focus as he pulled out the glass bottle of water from the bag. Giving it to Lorenz, he stood back up, looking down at the Dark Knight among the rocks. With a voice leaving no room for argument, he decided.

“We also don’t need you prancing off and making your headache and injury worse. I’m going to go catch something, get more water and handle the fire. I’m an excellent caregiver, I know.” He gave a wink, quickly interjecting before Lorenz could argue again.

“Just rest some more, breathe for a while. Byleth will find us, if we can’t travel up the river ourselves. Look. I know you want to get up and walk about just because I’m telling you not to…but I’m serious, this time. I still mean it, when I say I can depend on you. Think you can extend the same courtesy for me?”

Lorenz’s eyes opened slowly at that, rising to meet his with an emotion that Claude could only describe as genuinely unreadable. For once, the King could not decipher the look, and it almost made him feel uncomfortable, not able to tell what the other man was thinking. Soon, the look was gone, and Lorenz closed his eyes once again in sour defeat.

“Just go, Claude…if you take too long, I’ll leave on my own…”

Claude felt a flash of relief, stepping back and lifting Failnaught back into his hands once again. He spared the man one last look, as though assuring himself that Lorenz would be fine for enough time for him to get what they needed. He also planned to scout the forest a bit more, try and see if there were any signs of mages around.

But, if he was quick enough, Lorenz didn’t need to know about that.

Turning away from the tired Count, Claude slipped away from the towering grey boulders, peering out for any movement. He paused though, when Lorenz’s voice echoed after him, rasped and lightly inquiring.

“You have the utmost faith her…Lady Byleth. Don’t you? Do you believe she is close?...”

“Of course.” Claude nodded without hesitation. “I’ve always had faith in Teach. I always will. She’ll always find her way back to us.”

_To me_

He added the thought with a spark of warmth in his chest, stoking his hope and flooding his veins with determination. She would always have that effect on him. His answer seemed to suffice enough, as Lorenz’s voice silenced from small gorge. 

Rolling his shoulders, Claude continued on through the silver-stricken mist.


End file.
